Sasha Chorny
A drunkard`s nocturnes

        It's dark...
The bastard street lamp's run away
        And wine
Has, like a sea squall, made my frail ship sway.
        In the dark
I grab at a telegraph pole for support.
        I feel fine
But something's gone wrong with my leg.
        It's all
Unsteady and dancing around in a jig
        And the wall
Keeps walking into my guts.
        You slob!
Who dares call me a slob? What a creep
        to call me,
The noblest soul on earth, a drunken pig.
        I'll kill
Yer. But never mind, feller
        I'll first fill
My glass because the stars have said
        I must.
Oh, I feel weak and my legs are giving way...
        I think I'll just
Lie on the roadside and snore
        Or roar...
I'm forty years old, I'm a fool, and I'm poor
        But before
I die I'd like my old soak's body
        To be sure
It will be buried deep and dwell
        On the shore
For Charon's boat's already borne me off to hell.
        Farewell.
Let me sleep. I'll sleep like a log.

Translated by Bernard Meares